Texts From The Cold War Pt II
by MandNwriterzz
Summary: Sex on bubble wrap equals . . . BEST. DECISION. EVER! Romanogers.


**A/N: **Another Romanogers drabble collection for you. Don't own anything. Thanks and credits to chalantness and her tumblr and etc accounts for the prompts. Love you, girlfriend!

**A/N: **Go and read the first part of this: Texts From The Cold War.

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><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>(404): He yearns for your heart. (678): He needs to stop being a pussy about it.

"Steve likes you," Pepper Potts whispers hurriedly in Natasha Romanoff's ear. The redhead sighs once more at the strawberry blonde woman next to her and stirs her straw in her drink once more, trying to act cool. She shrugs.

"Doesn't everyone?" she retorts sarcastically and Pepper rolls her blue eyes.

"Come on! I mean, he likes you, like, in the 'like like' way." She's pressing on and on, but Natasha continues pretending like she couldn't get what her best friend is saying. Why she always does these things when they are in a public place boggles her.

The red haired woman brushes aside her fiery locks. "I'm sorry. Since when did we become twelve year olds and start using mediocre, totally middle school slang in our conversations, Peps?" Even though her tone is still bleeding with sarcasm through every syllable, she can't help but flash a glance across the dance floor full of twisting and gyrating bodies and can easily make out Captain America's handsome face near a table where the rest of the Avengers were laughing and even slamming the table with their fists, but that is just the Tony Stark effect.

Steve catches her gaze and waves bashfully and she sends a smirk back before turning back to the bar. "Whatever. He needs to stop being so obvious."

"Ooh, here he comes!" coos the blonde beside her with an annoyingly bright and eager smile and Natasha shoots a brief glance over her shoulder again and her sharp emerald orbs widen in surprise when she sees that Pepper is right. Steve is marching across the dance floor towards them, pushing gently past dancers, especially the skimpily clad women who are delivering appreciative glances his way.

Natasha's hand clenches around her glass just a little tighter.

Now Pepper's departing, leaving the redhead defenseless and Steve sits himself down politely in the barstool next to her. "Hey, Nat," he greets with a small smile. She avoids his gaze.

"Please do remind me again," she states, not bothering to greet him back, trying to prove a point. "What the hell are we doing in Paris? We're not shopping or trying out the very weird food for the sakes of our delicate stomachs, but seriously, a nightclub?"

It is not even a good nightclub. The drinks taste like sharp glass cleaner, the whole place reeks of with clouds of Chanel No. 5 perfume, sweat and the stench of beer from the stains on the floor and there are tons of making out couples on the freaking tables, including Tony and Pepper in a corner. Natasha doesn't really get how fast those two can move since Tony's powers of speed, both terms at times, usually are used in his iron suit, but whatever.

Add in the French nightclub's bright, searing colored lights and the world's second worst DJ spinning on the squeals of steel the most loud and annoying techno crap ever plus the man who yearns for her heart right beside her, smiling his ass off, and hallelujah, Natasha is in for an unforgettable night.

"Well, I don't think we should let our time pass by unused, right?" Steve replies with a shrug and plays around with his glass. Natasha would have found it cute, but instead shifts to face him.

"Those are Stark's words, aren't they?"

"No doubt."

With a reluctant laugh, Natasha reaches down and flings off her dark high heels to discard them along the floor. She spots an awesome pair of turquoise blue ones she would die to have, but they would clash with her dress so she decides against wearing them. She stretches out her bare legs and piles them into Steve's lap with a huge sigh.

"God," she mutters, rubbing her eyes. "But we could be doing something else! Like touring around, standing right at the top of the Eiffel Tower or something . . ." She trails off once she notices his smile again. "What?"

"I don't know. Are you kind of implying we could go to the top of the Eiffel Tower together?"

It's not a bad idea. A very good one, actually, but she's not about to reveal that just yet. She shrugs. "Maybe, maybe not."

"Well, I'd be happy to."

Alright. Forget concealing. The redhead breaks out into a full out grin. "Sure. This crappy song's boring me anyway."

She doesn't know how, but she would never make fun of Paris or the Eiffel Tower for its sappy love and shit reputation again. Probably since she and the blond captain are the only ones making out at the top, enjoying the amazing view, his lips warm against hers and protecting her from the chilly air. Her back's slammed up against the railing, and a normal woman would have been afraid that she would fall, but she's not a normal woman and she almost bursts out laughing against Steve's mouth.

He pulls away for a moment. "What?" he inquires.

"Nothing. Just, some girls would think they're going to fall of the Tower if you kiss them that close to the railing," Natasha replies.

He grins and leans in to kiss her again. "No worries, Tasha. I'll catch you."

And she doesn't doubt him for a second.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>(417): I asked her if she wanted to make this a permanent exclusive thing instead of a fuck buddy thing, and she just looked at me like I'm an idiot. (1-417): That's because you are an idiot.

Steve wonders if he and Natasha would ever outgrow the friends with benefits stage, so being the ever so truthful, honorable and patriotic Captain America, he finally concludes his thoughts by the decision to ask her.

"Hey, Nat," he calls out to her across the room. They're alone for the night, and the woman is leaning against the tall glass window, gazing down at the twinkling lights of New York City. Her fiery red curls spill around her shoulders and she turns at the sound of his voice, wide jade green eyes inquiring him silently.

"Yeah, Rogers?" Natasha sends back, crossing her arms.

"I want to, um . . ." He doesn't know how to bring this out without hurting her feelings, but this is Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow. He can't hurt her feelings even if he tries, which he would never do if his life depends on it.

The red haired woman is now waiting impatiently and begins strolling over to him by the couch. "Go on."

"I think we need to talk about our relationship," he rushes out in a rapid flood of words and Natasha smiles as she gets closer and closer.

"Okay. What do you mean?" She's rubbing her hands up and down his arms and it's really hard to focus. He gently pushes her hands away.

"What I mean is that-" But Natasha cuts him off by planting a kiss on his lips and he immediately reciprocates, knotting his fingers in the warmth of her hair and she pushes him down on the couch, kissing him and kissing him. But once her hand slips down to reach his shirt's hem, his eyes open and he is reminded of what his plan is.

"No, Natasha!" he exclaims impatiently, shoving her off him and placing her on her butt on the couch beside him. He shifts so that they are looking eye to eye. "What I was actually trying to tell you is, are we ever going to get past this occasional sex stage or can we actually make this an exclusive relationship?"

Natasha is certainly not expecting that, but instead shoots an astonished expression at him. Steve's heart sinks a little.

"Okay, now you're looking at me like I'm an idiot or something."

She snorts, her glare transforming into an emerald driven eye roll at the ceiling. "That's because you are an idiot, Rogers," Natasha snaps and spins away, hair almost flying into his face. He pushes it away and pats it back into place on her back and his own hands slip up to her shoulders to massage them, much like what she was doing a few minutes ago.

"Hey," he says in a soothing tone and Natasha just has to glance over her shoulder at him. Her heart melts when she sees the smile on his face that makes him so damn attractive. "I'm sorry," he continues, looking truly sincere. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't," she wards off, spinning back around. "It's just that . . . I don't usually get into serious relationships, Steve."

"Oh," he just replies, sounding a bit, no, very disappointed. She doesn't want to make him feel bad, but she is a woman who never got into serious relationships because, she dare not admit it out loud, she is afraid of love.

But looking back at the Captain, maybe one day, she'll get over that fear.

But when Steve reaches a hand down to interlock their fingers together, Natasha is positive that fear is going to melt away in a short while.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>(402): Officially conquered sex on my couch with my dad asleep in the next room (1-402): I like how you say "conquered" as if that was your sole mission in life.

Natasha snuggles closer to the bare, strong and firm build of the Captain beside her. A blanket is covering them, shielding their nakedness from everyone else, even though they're sound asleep inside of their bedrooms. Well, only Bruce Banner, who is the only one present inside of Stark Tower. Tony and Pepper are on a trip in the Bahamas, Clint is meeting up with S.H.I.E.L.D for a couple of days, Thor's also hanging out with Sif, who is new to the Earthen world and needs some guidance and Sam Wilson and Maria Hill are spending some quality time together somewhere.

Speaking of quality time, that is exactly what Steve and Natasha are doing right now.

"Steve," the redhead murmurs in his ear, sitting up for a moment.

The Captain groggily stirs. "What?"

"Nothing," Natasha brushes off and sits on top of him. "Just checking if Banner's woken up yet."

"Oh, God!" he suddenly exclaims in a quiet voice. He circles the blanket tighter around them, as if to protect their nakedness from the world. "Did he?"

"No, you idiot!" she groans back. "Besides, we haven't even had sex yet!"

"Well, yeah."

"Because you're the one who stopped."

"But, Nat, Banner's-"

"Fast asleep and will not disturb us." They had been that close to sex, discarding various articles of clothing and dumping them onto the floor, but then there was a beep down the hallway, the sound of Banner's laptop chiming. Steve had panicked and grabbed a blanket, suggesting that they should sleep since he was tired anyway. The red haired woman had rolled her verdigris eyes, but lay down next to him, knowing that she could just wake him up an hour later, when Banner was sure to be asleep.

And now that had come and she is gazing down at Steve with big, insistent blue green eyes. Before the blond man can protest again, she bends down and plants a rather hot kiss right on his mouth, her lips pressing so hard against his until he moans in response. She knows he's loving this and rocks her hips against his, which are shielded by blue denim jeans, but still she receives another moan of pleasure from him.

Steve's animal nature finally takes over his morale, and he wraps his strong arms around her tiny waist and flips her over so that he's on top. He rips apart the buttons of his button down T shirt, which she had slipped on while they were sleeping, and tosses the leftover pieces of fabric on the floor.

Natasha, in return, gropes her long and pale fingers down his toned chest, feeling the smoothness of his six pack under her fingertips to reach the button of his jeans. Captain America peels off the jeans once she pops the button open and zips his fly down. Throwing down that article of clothing on the floor as well to join the rest of their clothes, he kisses a little more urgently.

The next morning, Steve's blue eyes fly open and he glares down at the redhead, who is smiling. Maybe she's awake or maybe she's dreaming about something, but he can tell that she's awake since she mutters,

"Good morning."

"I hate you," he mumbles halfheartedly and she opens her eyes fully, the greenness sparkling in the sunlight.

"Sure you do." She extends a hand towards his bag on the floor and pulls out a small notepad and pen. Clicking the pen open, she scribbles something inside with a dirty smile and Steve leans in to read what she is writing, but she hides it quickly enough, finishing what she's writing with a seemingly big check mark.

"What did you just do?" he demands furiously.

Natasha grins even wider. "Just added to your list of accomplishments."

"Which was?"

"We have officially conquered having tons of sex on the couch while Dad was sleeping." She uses the nickname they always use for Banner because of his meek-ish nature when not in Hulk mode and since he acts a tad more responsible than Steve does, which the blond male constantly protests about.

Steve slightly smiles at that. "I kind of like your use of 'conquer'. Sounds like your sole mission in life."

"That's 'cause it is, Cap." And Natasha pulls him down on top of her for some more 'quality time'.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>(519): ONE NIGHT STAND. You have 27 minutes before the offer expires, so I suggest you hurry.

"Where the hell is everyone else?" demands Natasha, waltzing into the room. She is bored out of her mind and she has heard the most obnoxious, abhorrent noises emanating from the living room of Steve's apartment. However, she notices the apartment's mostly empty except for her and Captain America, who is perched on the couch, staring disgusted at the large screen on the flat screen TV.

Everyone had just been there in the living room half an hour ago, but now they're gone.

"Tony and Pepper are on a date, Thor and Jane pretty much the same, Sam and Hill too, Banner with Betty and Clint's out with Bobbi," Steve explains, turning to face her. He's glad that he's not looking at the movie onscreen. "Where they all went for their dates, I don't know."

Natasha smiles, but it fades when she catches a glimpse of what he's watching. Three women, baring their fangs, are basically half naked with Victorian dresses on are onscreen. Most likely hookers or something, they are circling around a shirtless dude, who has blood all over him.

Great. Steve the Single has been reduced to watching TV every night on the couch.

"Steve Rogers," she gasps sternly, sitting herself on the armrest and her feet planted on the cushions next to him. She arches an eyebrow coolly. "Are you actually watching porn?"

Steve looks at the screen, then at her, with a totally dumbfounded expression on his handsome face, then he immediately clicks off the TV, a blush creeping up on his face and choking back his popcorn.

"No! Of course not!"

"Good." A pause . . . "Rogers, you need a date."

He chuckles. "As you keep telling me, what, everyday?"

"I'm serious. You're turning into Steve the Single."

He winces at the nickname. Everyone has been calling him that for weeks and it is grating on his seemingly steel plated nerves. "I am not!"

"You know what? I'll make you an offer you can not refuse."

The blond man shifts his almost navy blue eyes to meet her twinkling emerald green orbs. "Oh, really?" he challenges innocently, becoming slightly intrigued. "What's that?"

"Three words. One. Night. Stand. You've only got," Natasha says, and then glances at her pretend invisible watch on her wrist. "27 minutes. So I suggest you hurry and make your decision."

Steve is utterly shocked. "Excuse me? Natasha, I don't think-"

"Shut up and kiss me, Cap," she demands and before he can even consider the order, she dives in and crashes her lips onto his, tongue immediately sliding in, prodding at his bottom lips, begging for entry, which he permits.

Steve doesn't know what is coming over him, but he tugs her a little closer, grinding their hips together. Then he grabs a hand underneath either of the redhead's thighs and shoots her up and into his lap, where their lips have managed to stay locked together in a passionate make out.

The Captain breaks away from their lip lock, both of them panting hard, and nimbly rips off Natasha's shirt, revealing that she hadn't even had a bra on underneath. His hands slide down to curve around her round hips. She presses both hands to his cheeks and resumes kissing him.

"Oh, God!" Steve cries out minutes later when all of their clothes are off and his jeans finally hit the floor. Natasha's on top of him, still grinding her hips against him, causing him to moan with pleasure. "Oh, God, don't stop!"

"No God here, Cap. Just me," Natasha flashes that proud little smirk of hers and bends back down to kiss him.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>(562): Just realized i left my bra at his house. WHY do i suck at one night stands?! (A mini Castle reenaction)

Steve glances nervously at the bend in the hallway of his apartment. Natasha is still inside of his bedroom after their night together, changing and trying to escape while Bucky and Darcy sit in front of him, his best friend looking sympathetically at his girlfriend.

Although he can't help a wry smile. "Wow, Darce, your first hangover and you haven't shot someone yet," Bucky teases. "I'm impressed."

"Shut up," Darcy grumbles at him, rubbing her head. "You know what, I need some aspirin." She glares at Steve and he realizes she's asking her.

"Sure," Bucky shrugs and rises to get up out of his seat and that's the exact moment Natasha is tiptoeing out of his room.

Steve suddenly grabs a firm hold of Bucky's wrist. "NO!" he practically hollers and the couple stare at him in astonishment.

"What?" Bucky asks, trying to get off his grip. Natasha has now made it to the door, with her clothes intact of her body and jacket slung over her arm.

"It's her first hangover," Steve tries to explain. "Shouldn't you make her deal with it? A rite of passage?"

Bucky stares at him like he's crazy, but who wouldn't when he looks like this? But Natasha shoots him a wink and slips out of the door sneakily, so Steve lets him go. "But if you must. I mean, I wasn't getting any medical attention when I got my first hangover, did I?"

"Got a point, but still." Bucky plants a kiss on Darcy's head and heads for the bathroom.

Outside, Natasha is zooming down the hallway towards the elevator when suddenly, she halts in her tracks. She presses a hand against her black cotton T shirt and curses silently.

She has left her bra inside. Why does she suddenly suck at one night stands?

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>(416): no strings attached, like you could fuck him and then throw him off a building right after.

Natasha didn't think having sex with Steve would have had consequences. Sure, it was great and hot and utterly _fantastic_, but still.

But yeah, once she, Maria Hill, Sam Wilson AKA the Falcon and Captain America himself gather on the top of a building to discuss mission plans, she just had the feeling that something unforgettable is going happen this day.

"Hey, Nat," Steve greets with a smile. The smile is so dazzling that she gives him a brief smile before fading back into a blank look.

"So, here's how it's going to go," Maria announces, pulling out a paper. Sam leans in over her shoulder, resting it there and she lets him since he's, you know, her boyfriend. Most people would have found it cute, but Natasha doesn't go for cute.

Ironic, since the love of her life is the cutest man on this freaking planet.

While Maria explains everything, her ocean blue eyes flicking here and there over the paper and Sam stroking down her loose mane of chocolate brown hair, Steve sidles up to Natasha.

"Hey," he murmurs into her hair, breathing in its sweet scent. She pulls away for a moment.

"Hey yourself, Cap," she mutters.

"What's up?" he asks, feeling concerned for her.

"The sky."

"Okay, seriously, what's wrong?" He then slides his hand down her arm to curve his fingers around her own. He gives it a reassuring squeeze. Natasha sends a brief glance below and then back at Steve's handsome face, which is beaming innocently at her and she wants so desperately to be frozen in time, in this exact moment, but her unusual self preservation skills kick in and suddenly, anger streaks through her, hot and messy and uncontrolled, and she's shoving her hands roughly into his shoulders, face muscles contorted with a loud battle cry and he's falling down, down, down with a fading yell.

"I got you, Cap!" calls Sam, instantly gliding down the building's side, silver wings gleaming in the sunlight and out of sight. For now.

Natasha is staring off into the distance when Maria marches up to her, her jaw dragging off the floor and wide ocean blue eyes gazing at her with complete and utter horror. "Why the hell did you do that?" she urges, crossing her arms. The redhead barely spares her a glance.

"He was getting on my nerves," she lies. "Plus, he deserved it."

Suddenly, the Falcon zooms up from below and into the sky, where he drops Steve off at the rooftop. He tucks and rolls and easily flips to his feet. He glowers murderously yet bewildered at Natasha. "What the hell did you do that for, Natasha?!"

"Okaay, Sam, I think we should go. Let the lovebirds talk," Maria instructs, ignoring the glare she gets from Natasha at the use of 'lovebirds'. Before she can protest, Sam gets the picture and Maria attaches herself to him in such a way that they can still fly off together.

"Did you see that?" Steve inquires incredulously.

Natasha smiles. "Yeah, I knew they had a thing for each other. Don't I have an intuition for these things or what? I could always-"

"Natasha," Steve says sternly and she wheels around to face him.

"What?"

"You did just throw me off a building, remember? I need to know why."

"Just because we had sex, Rogers, doesn't mean we're dating," she finally snaps at him.

Steve is silent. "It does?"

"Why do you sound so surprised? Get used to the modern world, Cap." Natasha rolls those green eyes of hers. "It's called no strings attached. It means it wasn't made by any emotions."

Once again, the golden haired man is silent, but then nods. "Yeah."

Natasha raises an eyebrow. "Unless . . . there was emotion behind it."

"Well, of course there was!" Steve exclaims incredulously, sounding tired himself. "Come on, Tasha. Do you honestly think that I, Captain America would only sleep with you because you're 'hot'?" He actually makes air quotes around the last word and she's so astonished that she only scoff a low, "Yeah."

"I didn't. I did because . . ."

"Because? Come now, spit it out!"

"Because I do like you."

Natasha doesn't respond, still trying to comprehend that last sentence. Meanwhile, she attempts to forget by pointing out the look in his eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she demands, but there is no real force in her words.

"Nothing. I just really want to kiss you right now."

Oh, forget it all. Natasha struts right up to him and smashes her lips to his and right then, nothing else matters.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>(214): Sex on bubble wrap = best decision ever.

They're supposed to be wrapping up Tony and Pepper's fragile china cutlery set, but Steve just gets so damn distracted when Natasha's looking at him like that and deliberately flipping her hair into her emerald orbs to shoot a sexy beam his way.

"All right, Nat," he finally relents, laying down the abundance of bubble wrap on the table and spinning around to glare at her, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "I can't work like this if you just sit on the countertop, doing nothing."

"It's not absolutely nothing," pouts Natasha. She's perched on the countertop of the kitchen, her hands clasped around the edge, her long, curvaceous legs dangling off the side and her long crimson curls framing her face. She's wearing only skin tight jeans and an equally tight black baby tee, baring her toned midriff. "I'm checking out your hot Captain America ass."

Steve just can't help quirking up a tiny smile. "Whatever," he mutters, turning back to wrap up the china. Suddenly, he feels two hands slip into the back pockets of his own jeans and he almost jumps. Then, he wheels back around to face Natasha, how, being a spy, had leaped off the counter and landed on the ground on her bare feet without making a single sound to press her body against him. His hands travel up to her hair, brushing it back a little.

"Come on, Cap. Stark and Pepper aren't going to be here for another couple of hours. And we will have plenty of time to finish this later." She's leaning in, and he's inhaling her sweet scent of vanilla cupcakes, which matches the porcelain white of her creamy skin, and it's almost contradicting because she's like salt, spice and sugar mixed together. Her lips are literally millimeters away from his, but he decides to tease her a bit.

"And what should we do in the meantime, Nat?" he questions cluelessly, gulping down the lump in his throat.

She laughs. "What do you think, Cap?"

"Hmm, I don't know." And that's when she lays the kiss on him, the kiss that freezes his heartbeat, then sends up to beat a mile a minute, the kiss that sends him moaning into her mouth, the kiss that just sets their love ablaze.

Natasha pounces on him, boosting herself upwards into the air, just so that she can nimbly wrap her long spidery legs -which totally suits her name, the Black Widow- around his hips and leans back for a moment, curls spread out crazily. "Damn," is the only thing she murmurs before they both laugh and kiss again.

Steve's definitely become a better kisser. A much better one, thinks Natasha. But she's probably helped him with that ever since she nearly jumpstarted him with her smoldering kiss on the escalator. Steve's hands curve around the roundness of her own hips and hoists Natasha's body up onto the kitchen island where the bubble wrap is laid out.

"Not exactly a bedspread, but it'll have to do," ponders the Captain before slanting downwards to meet her lips with his. The Black Widow growls against his mouth, begging, no, ordering for entry and he easily grants it. Their tongues clash together.

And Natasha rises for a moment to rip off her shirt, revealing her lacy black bra. The lace itches against her skin, but she doesn't care because she is loving how Steve's staring at her right now.

"Like what you see, Steve?" She arches a challenging eyebrow while she helps him with removing his own shirt.

"You haven't seen anything yet, Natasha," he whispers in a low and seductive voice in to her ear and Natasha knows she's taught him that too since that's how they spent most nights.

"Neither have you, Steve. Trust me."

He chuckles and she lies back down. Steve rests his hands against her hips, groping his fingers against the soft skin and she goes back to gently rocking her hips into his own, granting herself a low moan from Captain America. Steve's hands zip up to tangle his fingers into her fiery locks, lips attacking her own with fervor. She moans, both because of the heated passion Steve is showing and how the bubbles underneath her are popping, popping, popping.

"This is so fun!" she nearly hollers between hot pants and she pecks her lips across his shoulders and the golden haired man pulls away from the redhead to peck his own trail of hot kisses down her neck and leading down her chest. His hands are braced firmly on the side ends of the kitchen island and he pulls his legs up to straddle the red haired woman's tiny waist. With the force he's bringing down on her, Natasha briefly wonders how the island is still even supporting them before melting back into a golden world of ecstasy.

Suddenly, Steve slows himself down, kissing Natasha's lips slowly and languidly, like he doesn't have a care in the world and she likes it like that. Their limbs begin to intertwine once her panties are slipped off her hips and thrown to the floor, the last in the heap of clothing.

The marble cracks and shatters into pieces underneath Steve's fingertips. "Crap," he mumbles against her neck, which he had been nibbling for, like, ever and the redhead impatiently grabs his face and brings it up to her face so that they can kiss again, not being able to stand another second without the taste of his mouth inside of her.

"Who cares, Rogers?" Natasha literally snarls and bites his neck.

"Ow! What the hell, Nat?"

"I'm no vampire, but I sure as hell could be," she smiles, a little trickle of blood running down her chin and Steve brushes it off with his thumb.

"I always took you for a werewolf," he momentarily shrugs his bare shoulders.

"Why? Because I'm such an animal?"

"No. Because you sometimes scare the crap out of me."

"Well, then. That's more like it."

After a very, very long time of sex on the bubble wrap -seriously, it had been like fourteen rounds before Natasha's stamina finally gave out-, they had resumed packing and are now sitting on the sofa, a blanket on top of Natasha's legs and Steve pressing the buttons on the remote. Sam and Maria had joined them a minute ago and now Tony and Pepper walk into the room and the dark haired man pokes his noses through the boxes.

Suddenly, he groans very loudly.

Sam's head turns. "What's up, Stark?" he asks.

"Pepper!" Tony whines, ignoring the Falcon. "Look at this!"

Everyone gathers around the kitchen island. Well, except for Steve and Natasha, who just rise and lean against the back of the sofa.

"What is it, Tony?" Pepper inquires herself.

"All the bubble wrap is popped! How the hell did that happen?!"

Maybe it was Stark's misery or something else, but Steve flashes a mischievous look at Natasha. He raises up his hand. "Sex on bubble wrap," he murmurs.

"Best decision _ever_!" Natasha whispers back, slapping his hand in a joyous high five. Tony notices this out of the corner of his eye and raises up a hand. In between his fingers are . . .

"Romanoff, are these _your_ panties?" he demands.

Oops.

The dark haired billionaire then breaks into a dirty smile, flexing the soft material. "Well, then put these in the yes pile."

Natasha zooms over, snatches the underwear away and walks back to Steve, who's looking like he's trying very hard to laugh. Despite her embarrassed blush, they finally burst out into laughter and she pecks him on the cheek.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>(970): going to a night class in lingerie so i can quickly go to his house after.

Natasha knows that the college sophomore student -it is so freaking obvious he's only twenty years old. Seriously, dude, stop acting like you're, like, twenty five or something. Adolescence much?- has his eyes on her. Who wouldn't though, when she is dressed in only a freaking black trench coat.

The redhead huffs out another annoyed breath and throws yet another glower across the way at the man, who quickly looks away. More like perverted creep.

It's really her own fault. She's the one who wants to deck herself out in lingerie so that she could quickly hit Steve's apartment afterwards. She so can't wait to show Steve what she got him for a little random present. Just remembering herself twirling around in the clothing to catch a full view makes her giggle into her hand.

She still doesn't know why the hell she even sticks to these stupid night classes Clint forces her to go to, but then again, the answer is in the previous thought. No matter how many times she would slam her fist into the archer's jaw, both literally and figuratively, he remains adamant.

Once the bell signals the end of class, everyone rises from their seats to rush out of the door way. On the way, Natasha feels someone slide their hand over her hip and she immediately grabs that very hand and twists it around, hearing the welcome sound of a pained cry.

The fiery haired female wheels around. This guy is in for the worst moment of his life.

Just an hour later, Natasha is strutting up the stairs of Steve's apartment building, having made it safely through the dark streets of Washington D.C. alone, but she's a super spy. It's not like she was in any imminent danger anyway.

She stops in the bend in the hall way leading to the Captain's apartment. She's standing right in front of his door, but first, one last make up check. She pops out a compact mirror and rechecks her reflection in it. Her long scarlet red curls cascade down her shoulders, the same hairstyle she had when playing a secretary for Tony, and silver hoops dangle out of the fiery depths. Her lovely blue green eyes were large and sultry and her pink Cupid's bow shaped mouth was in a sexy pout.

Hell, yeah. She is definitely ready.

But the sound of another door unlocking surprises her and she whirls around on her Miu Miu glimmering turquoise leather high heels to see a woman with a laundry basket under her tanned arm exit her apartment. She notices Natasha and gasps herself, clapping her free hand to her chest.

"Oh!" Sharon Carter exclaims. "You startled me!"

"Yeah," Natasha says back, feeling slightly awkward at the turn of events. Sharon Carter is a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, and also the woman she had been asking Steve to call and ask out on a date a while ago.

A very long while ago. So why the hell is she still here? Not that she minded. Sharon is a very nice person, and not an annoying neighbor, or not someone Steve would complain about, at least.

Sharon's calm blue eyes widen fractionally when she notices Natasha's trench coat and the rest of her long, bare legs. Natasha feels even more awkward, but she's been taught not to crack under pressure, so she keeps a nonchalant, almost bored expression on.

"How are you?" The redhead, however, is horrible at small talk.

Sharon doesn't mind, though, flashing a sweet smile and shaking her blond curls around. "I'm becoming so busy with work and everything that I really think I need a good, ol' night on the town, you know?"

Natasha just nods. Normally, she would have immediately mention Steve and say how badly he needs a girlfriend, but tonight, she wants him all to herself. So she shoots her an apologetic smile.

"I know, right? Work's a pain half the time, so you should definitely hit that new club that's opened up."

"Yeah, thanks, I'll think I'll do that." She turns to leave, but freezes. Natasha is worried the blonde woman is going to ask her why in the name of God is she wearing only a trench coat, but instead asks, "You here to see Steve?"

Oh, yeaaaaah. Like that's a much better question, the redhead curses herself in sarcastic silence. She slightly nods. "Uh, Steve needed my help with something, so yeah."

"Okay, cool. Don't make too much noise, okay?"

The red haired female widens her eyes since she believes Sharon's on to her, but the blonde only departs down the stairs. Natasha just shrugs and walks over to the door, knocking on the wood firmly.

"Coming!" calls a male voice, muffled by the blockage of the solid door. Natasha fixes herself once more, licking her lips, ruffling her hair and then leaning herself against one arm propped up against the doorjamb.

The door swings open and she catches view of Steve's smiling face. "Hey, Natasha," he greets. She had positioned herself in the peek hole so he couldn't see what she's wearing, but now he sees it and his eyes widen just like everyone else. "Uhh. . . ."

The light in his eyes are brightening, so Natasha takes that as a good sign. "Hush," she murmurs and places a finger on his lips, pushing him back inside and her along with him.

"Tasha, I really don't think-" Steve tries to say, but she just flashes a mischievous grin that instantly makes him clamp his jaw shut. Her hand creeps down her side and towards the buckle of the strap. Unbuckling it easily and breezily, she grabs each end of the coat, pausing dramatically. She actually hears Steve's breath catch in his throat.

Good. She's got him on the ropes.

After a few long, pregnant pauses, she whispers, "Don't hate me, Cap. Nothing personal."

Then she whips it open and Steve's jaw falls open. Then, despite chuckling as well, he frowns. "Seriously, Natasha?"

"Come on. You have to admit, American flag lingerie is the best! Right?" the redhead beams eagerly. The lacy, spangly, blue-red-and-white, printed with stars, stripes and other American themed number hugs every curve, falls just under her butt, skimming her thighs, and one strap is hanging off her shoulder and she's absolutely right. It's perfect. And he's totally _loving_ it.

But he dares not show that. "Stop making fun of me," he mutters.

"Well, if you don't want it," Natasha says in a low voice, sauntering up to him slowly, then grabs his hand to slide it over her hip, then to the edge of her panties. "You can have so much more fun _without _it."

Steve's almost shocked. "Now kiss me like you mean it, Captain," Natasha adds, then he grins and leans down to plant a very, _very_ hot and dirty kiss on her killer curvy mouth.

"I'll always mean it it with you, Nat."

Natasha has at least three orgasms that night, along with Steve.

God bless America!


End file.
